A Widow in the Wild

My name is Ava. I am 36 years old. My boma (house) is at the very end of the Losimingori village, closer to the National Park. I was married at the age of 15. In the early days of my marriage, life was good. I remember being happy. 

But after a few years, my husband went to the city to work. He stayed there for nearly three years and worked as a security guard at an organization. When he returned, he was terribly sick. We tried to rescue him in every possible way. But his condition deteriorated. I used to live with his family back then. 

My boma is so far out in the wild that every morning and each night, wild beasts, giraffes, lions, elephants pass through the courtyard. At night, the howling hyenas keep us awake. We put a big log against the door to stay safe and pray until we fall asleep.

My husband passed away 6 years ago. His grandfather proposed that I move out of their house and build a place of my own on my husband’s land. Since then, I don’t have any helpers to support my children or my family. I am all this house has; even when I am struggling to run everything smoothly. 

When my husband died, I had only two children. But then I added a third child to the family with another man. This may sound strange to people from outside, but in the Maasai culture after a husband dies, if the wife is still young, you are allowed to add four more children to the family in the name of your husband, but with other men. Until the age of 55, I am allowed to expand this family. 

The identity of the other men must remain confidential. You cannot reveal to anyone who has offered to father you a child. Neither can that man claim any right over the newborn. It’s a secret I have buried inside myself. 

To sustain my children, I have no alternative source of income other than the forest. I travel long distances in the wild to chop old, fallen trees. I carry the bundle on my back for hours and then sell it as firewood in the market.

The life of a widow in the Maasai society is a tough one. The day you are sick, the children have no one to cook for them, prepare them for school or look after them. It’s a lonely fight as a widow. Even when I am unwell, I have to walk to the hospital, get better somehow and resume my responsibilities at home. There is no chance of taking an off; even if you can barely stand.

My boma has nothing—No goat, no cow, no milk. Somedays, I have to go begging from door to door to fetch things to eat. Even to collect stationery, books, uniform, and school fees for my children, so they can attend school. When some people are mean to me or taunt me,  the only option I have is to come home, cry, collect firewood and restart the process the next day. I cannot keep feeling sorry for myself.

I could have chosen to remarry, as the second wife of my husband. But I decided against it. One evening, after he died, I sat down and thought to myself: I have two children from my husband, will I be able to fully accept another man in the same position? The answer was a clear no. That day, I committed to being both the father and the mother to my children, no matter how hard things get.

According to the Maasai, one tradition to follow is that when your husband passes away, for a certain period of time, a widow is not allowed to wear any jewellery. Your lack of accessories testifies to your widowhood and misfortune. 

A second tradition to note is that you have to maintain the former house of your husband, sincerely. It must stay intact. You have to clean it regularly as if he was still in it. This helps the children grow in pride in their father’s name. 

People here do not discriminate against a widow because they know she had a husband, it’s only that she lost him. They show their kindness by offering food, used clothes for the children. Sometimes, they even allow my children to graze their cattle for a little money. 

I plan to add two more children to my family as a respect for my husband. Every three years, I can add a child. Having five children in total will complete this house. Furthermore, the boys will provide more manpower as I grow old and the girls, when married, will bring more cows to the house according to tradition. Five children will secure this home in multiple ways. 

Despite all the challenges, life has thrown my way, if I was to meet God ever, all I would say to him is THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! My hope is that my children will have a good life. That they will get educated and make a difference. 

My advice to every widow in the world is only this: No matter what happens, keep the values of your home safe. They will guide you and help you find strength.